


Warm Milk (Before Bed)

by photonromance



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, tumblr ficlet migration - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance





	Warm Milk (Before Bed)

The stress is not good for Will. Some people flourish under constant pressure. Will is not one of those people. He grows paler everyday, grows thin despite Hannibal’s efforts to feed him. He crumples in on himself and Hannibal watches him collapse, a house of cards in a hurricane. Will is making progress in some ways. He only accepts coffee from Hannibal, welcomes small, comforting touches if the good doctor offers them. He’s dependent, craves comfort and affection with no place to get it. Will is dying in tiny increments, starving to his grave. Luckily, or perhaps not so, there’s a final trick before the dark truth comes out and Will is almost ready.

It’s a painful case and Will is shaking apart. Hannibal invites him to the office for warm tea, the chance talk about what he’s seen and experienced.

It’s late and raining and Will stands at the window holding his mug of slowly cooling tea. Passing headlights cast rippling shadows over his face. He’s haunted. “It was close.” Will says softly, “Too close.”

“You went too deep.” Hannibal sets his mug aside untouched, “It’s understandable you’re shaken, but if you can’t come out of it, eventually you’re going to to be trapped with no way out.” Will’s hands are unsteady, spilling a slosh of tea over his fingers to the carpet before Hannibal takes it from him. Their fingers brush and something electric jolts through Will. It’s a dizzying rush though the fog he’s tangled in.

“Perhaps I can offer you something a little more comforting?” Will looks up at him and Hannibal takes his glasses gently. It makes Will’s eyes loose focus, makes his mouth fall open in dead protest. He’s pliant when Hannibal takes him by the wrist, draws him to the lounge.

He lets go while he slips his jacket off, loosing his tie.

“What are you-”

Hannibal hushes Will with a fingertip, draping his tie and jacket over the arm of the chair. “Trust me.” Hannibal murmurs, sitting back against the lounge as he unbuttons his shirt. Will looks confused, absolutely lost. Hannibal opens his shirt and peels down the tight top he wears underneath.

His breasts are small, just full enough to need the compression top. He’s already wet, his nipples damp and rosy. Will gapes unattractively. “Come here, Will.” Hannibal keeps his voice low, soothing, slipping one arm free of his dress shirt to offer a hand, “There’s nothing to be frightened of. It will make you feel better.”

Will takes his hand, allows himself to be drawn in. He blushes when Hannibal has him settle across his lap.

“What-”

Will pauses as he’s tugged down, his temple cradled against Hannibal’s arm.

“This is yours, Will, yours alone.” Hannibal supports him with one hand, tips him closer with his hold.

The flesh is tender under Will’s fingertips, yielding lightly. When Hannibal sighs at the brush over his nipple, Will looks up at him with trusting eyes.

“I want it.”

“It’s yours.”

There’s something primal in the tiny noise Will makes at the first sudden taste. He shivers, lipping at the flesh before he gets a firm latch. Hannibal strokes his hair while he nurses, his pulse under Will’s palm quickening.

It’s slow and warm and Will feels so /safe/. It’s milk, only milk. But it’s warm and sweet and does strange things to Will’s shattered nerves. It’s soothing and he curls into Hannibal, desperate for more. Hannibal holds him and Will drinks his warmth and affection until he’s dizzy with it. Hannibal is solid, something real in the madness Will’s been drowning in.

Thankfully, Hannibal only draws him away when the first runs dry to offer the other.

Though it feels like hours in a soft haze, it’s over too soon.

Will lets go when there’s nothing left and falls against Hannibal’s shoulder in a boneless slump. He licks his lips and nuzzles in close, dozing.

Hannibal tugs a handkerchief from his jacket and wipes at Will’s mouth. He doesn’t protest.


End file.
